


The Wild Adventures of the Newly Deceased

by casanovica



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Finger Sucking, Grim Reapers, Literal fuck or die, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Teasing, Topping from the Bottom, inappropriate use of double entendre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27321997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casanovica/pseuds/casanovica
Summary: if he tells you no, use your princess voice, look him in the eyes and suck his fingers. that's actually how frank iero convinced death to let him live after falling in a ditch.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 18
Kudos: 94





	The Wild Adventures of the Newly Deceased

**Author's Note:**

> Gerard is death and Frank is dead. Happy late Ieroween! >=)

Once, when Frank was joking around with his friends, he received the comment, “Frankie darling, you’re sweet and all, but I bet you couldn’t ride a cock to save your own life.” 

Evidently, they were wrong, and Frank has the scar to prove it.

*

Frank’s on his way to a dick appointment when he dies. 

It’s getting late. He’s texting this dude he met on Grindr and walking down the street. He’s not exactly paying attention to where he’s going, but he’s lived in the same part of Jersey for his whole life. He knows where he is and how many steps it is to the sandwich shop and where the gang of neighborhood 7 year olds like to hang out and yell at people. He knows where he’s going.

So, it’s definitely a surprise to him when he falls face first into an open construction pit. 

The pit had been roped off, but Frank hadn’t paid any attention to that and walked right through the caution tape. His reaction to falling into the pit on the side of the road was less shock and more confusion. It’s also less that he falls face first into the rocks and gravel and more neck first. He hears the crack before he feels it. He doesn’t get the chance to feel the trauma of the fall before he blacks out completely.

When he wakes up, he’s standing beside the pit looking down at his own dead body.

“Aw shit, I died.” He says to himself.

He leans over the pit cautiously to observe what's left of him. He looks like an extra on a procedural cop show with his limbs all splayed out and his head at an impossible angle. There’s a bit of blood and Frank would think it looks pretty badass if he wasn’t dead from it and all.

A hand falls on his shoulder.

“Aah!” He squeals, shaken.

He turns to find a figure of average height dressed in a long black linen robe standing in front of him. He’s holding a scythe, which is a bit dramatic, Frank thinks. He’s already dead, it’s not like he can kill him. He’s got no face. Frank looks into the hood and finds only endless darkness. It’s the exact image of death that's been shown to him numerous times throughout his short life, but he still finds himself a little surprised. He’d almost think someone was playing a prank on him if he hadn’t just seen his very lifeless corpse lying in a ditch. 

He looks over at his dead body once more, looks at the phone lying off to the side of him, trying to see if his Grindr date texted him back. The phone looks cracked, though, and just as dead as him, so Frank guesses he’ll have to spend the rest of eternity wondering whether the guy would’ve been a fun time.

Death is still standing there when he looks back.

“Do I really gotta go?” Frank asks, giving puppy eyes.

Death just nods. Frank scoffs in response, inconvenienced. As if someone had just told him they were out of almond milk and he was gonna have to settle for soy.

The reaper places his hand on Frank’s shoulder once more and they’re transported to a different plane of existence.

They’re in a large chamber. It’s rather elegant, but bare. The main exhibit there is the large throne made of skulls and obsidian on a far side of the room. It’s a tiny bit terrifying. There is a thin hallway opening before them, it looks long and there’s light spilling out of it. He has a pretty good guess as to where it goes. Death gestures him toward it.

Frank sighs and begins to walk into the light. Might as well. But as he walks toward it, the light starts to consume him. He feels empty, like he’s not in his body, like he’s really _dying_. He freaks out and jumps back.

“Nope!” He exclaims, stepping as far away from the hallway as possible. “I am not doing that.”

Death sighs and pops his hip. Frank can feel his nonexistent eyes roll.

“Well, you gotta.” Death says in reply. 

It’s weird, Death’s voice is oddly nasal and high pitched. Frank assumed that if Death could speak, he’d have a really deep voice like James Earl Jones. But, this dude sounds more like Liza Minelli. He brushes it off, he’s not in a good position to judge at the moment.

Frank looks around. It’s sparse but there is a plush rug in front of the Chair of Death. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to sleep on. Frank’s definitely crashed in worse spaces. He could make it work.

“Can’t I just stay here?” Frank asks, gesturing to their empty surroundings. Better than permanent death, he figures.

“No.” Death sounds exasperated and annoyed at Frank’s insolence. “That’s not how it works.”

“I don’t wanna go in there.” Frank argues.

“Most souls are more than happy to go into the light and be free.”

Frank throws his arms up, “Well I don’t!” He looks around at the textured walls. It’s not much like a church, but it'll have to do. He closes his eyes and falls to his knees in prayer.

“Please God, please save me. I don’t wanna die. I was raised Catholic! I was baptized and did the altar boy thing and everything! I think I earned a favor and I’d like to cash it in right now.” 

Frank pops an eye open and finds he's still in the waiting room with Death standing in front of him with his arms crossed. Well, all those years of not falling asleep at mass when his parents managed to drag him over were a waste. He keeps his hands clasped in front of his chest.

“Satan, Lord of the Underworld? I have a favor to ask. I need you to make me not dead. My parents always used to tell me to stop playing the devil's music when I played my punk records, but I never stopped, so, that’s gotta count for something, right? Wanna make a deal?”

There's not even a breeze of acknowledgement.

“Uh, Hades?” Frank starts, but he’s quickly pulled up by the back of his sweater by Death.

“Can you be done now? It’s not happening.” Death scolds him.

“Please put me back. Please, please, please!” Frank pleads to the cloaked figure. “I’ll do anything. I’ll give you anything.”

Frank frantically pats down his pockets for anything of value. Surely, he could find something to offer. Anyone, _anything,_ could be bought. In his pockets, he finds his keys, an expired bus pass, a coupon for Domino’s, his cigarettes, some lube and a condom, and $2.50 in quarters.

He piles the coins and the coupon together and holds it out to Death. He remains unimpressed.

“You know, the Greeks used to give us gold coins at least.” Death muses.

Frank slumps in defeat. Tired and dead and out of ideas, he pulls out his pack and takes out a cigarette, placing it between his teeth. He lights it and nods at Death.

“Want one?” He asks. “If you can even do that.”

Death considers it for a second and nods. “Fuck it. Yeah, might as well.”

Frank hands Death the lit cigarette and pulls another out for himself. They both take a few silent drags to let the nicotine enter their systems. A rogue bit of burning ash hops onto Death’s hood and he attempts to wave it off of him so that the whole cloak doesn't up in flames.

“Shit.” Death mutters, pulling his hood down and shaking the ash off.

Frank just stares. Under the hood is not an endless void of nothing. It’s just a regular dude. He’s got short white hair and sharp brows and pretty hazel eyes and a little red mark under his eye like a burst blood vessel. Sure, he looks like a quirky dude, but he’s not a mythological monster, he’s just a guy. 

Frank only realizes he’s been staring with his mouth open when Death responds.

“What?” He asks incredulously, blowing smoke in his face.

“You look normal. I thought you’d be like an animal conglomerate or a cloud of smoke or something.”

Death shakes his head and lets out a single laugh. “No. We’re normal souls that choose to become reapers. It could be anybody under here, it’s just the uniform that matters. It’s what people expect. I’m not technically supposed to reveal myself, but I’m also not technically supposed to have a cigarette with a soul that’s meant to be passing on, so, go figure.”

After looking directly at him for a bit longer, Frank decides that Death is hot. He’s got this supernatural air about him that Frank isn’t ashamed to admit is pretty sexy. He’s also got a dainty facial structure that is easy on the eyes. Even the nasal voice Frank could get over if he kept that spooky cloak on.

“Sorry I don’t have much else to offer you. I could give you my soul?”

Frank figures, he’s sharing a cigarette break with the guy, they’re pretty chummy. What’s a human soul at the end of the day?

Death shakes his head. “That’s useless. I wouldn’t be able to do anything with it. Besides, if you gave me your soul, you’d be definitely dead.”

Frank shrugs and blows smoke out the side of his mouth. “Eh, worth a shot.”

Death is at the end of his cigarette, meaning Frank is almost out of time. Death flicks the cigarette away, toward the skull throne end of the room. He turns to watch it fly away.

“How about my body?” Frank asks, crushing the butt of his own cigarette under his boot.

He misses the way Death freezes up at the suggestion.

“Make a night of it. Go galivanting around Jersey for a few hours. See a few sights, have a few drinks. And just like, return it when you’re done.” Frank continues, smiling encouragingly.

Death unfreezes and adjusts his cloak, clearly affected by something Frank had said. “Oh," is all he responds.

“Oh?” Frank echoes, confused. He looks at Death’s awkward stance and wonders why he’s no longer meeting his eyes. Then Frank really notices Death’s awkward stance, one leg crossed over the other and the way he’s obviously avoiding eye contact with him. “Oh.” He repeats, voice lifting.

Frank steps closer to the cloaked figure. He lets his hand rest on Death. He traces feather light circles on his back until he looks over at him. He speaks in a whisper to Death, even though they are the only ones there. “So you like my body, huh?”

Death’s gaze lingers on his lips before he turns away completely again. “You are attractive, yes.”

Frank’s hand slides to Death’s lower back. “Attractive enough to let me off?” He smirks.

Death traces his eyes down Frank, then up, then back down again. He’s looking like he’s really considering it. Frank sees an out.

“Frank, you died. I can’t just put you back. How would you explain that?”

Frank almost squeals, he’s so close to cracking him. “Let me worry about that. Will you do it, will you let me go?” Frank’s hand settles on the curve of Death’s ass. “I’ll make it worth the trouble.”

Death shivers at the touch. He’s probably touch starved, Frank figures, he can’t have gotten action in decades, _centuries_ even.

“I don’t even know if I could, if my body still works like that. I haven’t done anything in…” Death takes a pause to stare into the distance.

“That long huh?” 

Death nods.

“Well, let’s make a little deal. If I can help you get it up, if I can make you come, I get to go back. If I don’t, I’ll run into the light like a good little dead boy.”

Frank crowds him even closer, letting his hardening erection press against Death’s hip. “What do you say? Deal?”

Death presses forward against Frank’s dick. “I really shouldn’t.” Though his tone suggests he's thinking otherwise.

Frank slides a leg in between Death’s. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been told I’m a quality fuck.”

He watches Death’s lip tremble as he swallows. “Alright. Deal.”

Frank lights up like he won the lottery, but the game has just begun. Death reacts in what looks like fear to the level of Frank’s excitement.

In fairness, Frank pounces on him like a cat, so there’s plenty of reason to be afraid. Frank messily presses their lips together, like he’s the one trying to suck the soul out of Death. Death is obviously out of practice, so all he can do is follow Frank’s lead as he kisses and sucks at his mouth. It takes a little bit, but eventually it feels less awkward and actually enjoyable. In fact, it starts to feel good and Death shoves his own tongue in Frank’s mouth.

Frank backs Death up to his throne, attacking his neck until Death’s knees hit it and he falls into a sitting position. Death sits on his throne of skulls, looking up at Frank reverently, panting. Frank lets a smirk play on his face as he rips his sweater and shirt off in one go.

He has some go-to moves, ones that he had been thinking of using for his Grindr date that night. That obviously wasn’t gonna happen, so he planned on pulling out all of his favorite tricks for Death himself. He figures, he's only getting the chance to fuck an immortal bringer of doom once in his life, so he better make it count. He fucked someone who has dressed up as the devil on Halloween once, but this was already so much more fun.

Frank tosses the clothes to the floor and approaches Death. He knows he looks good. He knows he’s hot. No man who wasn’t at least a little bit narcissistic would tattoo two guns pointing directly to his asshole. He knows what he’s doing and Death is no match for him.

He stands directly in front of Death, trying to ignore the human skulls on Death’s throne. He pretends it's a kinky sex dungeon and the skulls didn’t once belong to human beings like him who enjoyed having their heads attached to their body. 

Frank grabs Death’s hands and places them on his chest. His hands are shaking a little.

“You can touch.” Frank encourages, pressing Death's palms into his skin and sliding them down his torso until they’re at his birds. 

Frank releases Death’s hands and the fingers splay out on his hip bones, feeling the cut of them and the ridges of the tattoos against them. He trails his fingers up Frank’s abs, tickling his ribs, before settling his thumbs on Frank’s nipples. Death looks up and watches Frank’s face change as he rolls the buds under his thumbs. The nubs get harder and perkier under Death’s touch and Frank squirms a bit at the attention.

“See, I like it when you touch.” He says, holding Death’s gaze.

Frank feels the familiar bubble of tension under his skin, so he takes a chance and climbs on Death’s lap. He straddles the reaper on his throne of skulls and feels a little powerful at that. He threads his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of Death’s neck, looking him in the eyes the entire time, breathing an inch away from him. 

Frank forces Death’s face into the crook of his neck and commands him, “Suck.”

Death latches onto the skin there immediately. Oddly enough, Frank feels like he’s got this supernatural being at his beck and call. It feels nice.

Frank moans audibly when he feels teeth nipping at him, licking his pulse point.

“More. I don’t care if you leave marks.”

Death takes that as gospel and sucks. Frank feels the blood vessels breaking under his skin and the endorphins flooding him at the sensation. It’s so good. Death makes another hickey that Frank knows will last for days. He doesn’t even realize when his hips start rocking down against him.

He finds that he’s not the only one charged up by the encounter. As he grinds down on Death, his erection is greeted by something equally hard below him. Death whimpers against his neck and he takes it as a cue to move on. He is fucking for his life after all. He’s not expecting a get out of jail free card for a bit of necking and grinding. There’s a main event to get to.

Frank climbs back off of Death’s lap and kneels in front of him. “Let me take care of you for a bit.” He coos.

He can’t find an obvious way to remove Death’s cloak-dress-poncho thing and doesn’t want to trap himself under the heavy linen. So, instead, he decides to go at it from first base like a teenager behind the band room at high school. 

He trails his hand up from the inside of Death’s calf to his crotch, feeling him shiver as he runs over sensitive spots. Once he finds Death’s hardened penis, he palms at it for a bit, feeling it out. 

Frank finds the head and thumbs at it before stroking it up and down. Death’s dick is an average length, but definitely has a generous thickness. Frank knows he’s gonna have a fun time with this one. Death throws his head back and pants for a bit, digging his fingers into the arms of the throne at the pleasure he’s receiving. And Frank hasn’t even gotten to the fun part yet.

He leans his head down to lick at the cock through the fabric. It’s not particularly interesting, it feels like cloth, but Death is living for it. At the first drag of his tongue across the clothed dick, Death lets out a long moan. So, Frank continues, applying more pressure and letting his spit soak through the fabric. He closes his lips around the girth of it, mouthing at it and giving it kisses. It even twitches when he does it, like a human dick, and Frank feels a little swell of pride.

“Look at me.” Frank commands and Death does. He looks weathered, like he’d just received an actual blowjob. He can’t access Death’s dick with his weird grim reaper cloak in the way, but Frank can give him a similar experience. He reaches over and takes one of Death’s wrists in his hand and brings it in front of him.

Frank licks at Death’s index finger a bit before sucking it into his mouth. He licks and sucks at it a bit before mouthing at the middle finger as well. With both the digits in, he wraps his tongue around them and hollows his cheeks while he sucks in, to give the full effect. He thrusts his tongue in between the two, scissoring them and licking the valley between his fingers. Once he gets the third in, he starts bobbing his head up and down on them. He covers his teeth and lets the digits slide against his tongue as if he were blowing a real cock.

Death is mesmerized. Testing it out, he crooks his fingers against the back of Frank’s tongue as he bobs down. It’s a little too close to his throat and he chokes a little, but the feeling passes and he doesn’t stop. At this point there’s saliva running down Death’s hand onto his arm, but he pays no attention. Instead, Death uses his other hand to grasp the back of Frank’s head and shove him down onto his fingers. Frank moans.

The fingers dig into the spot where tongue meets throat and it triggers his gag reflex. Frank gags, but Death keeps forcing his head up and down. It’s super kinky and Frank would be lying if he said it didn’t go straight to his dick. Frank chokes on Death’s fingers for a little bit longer before he finally lets him up.

Frank sputters, trying to regain his breath. Spit spills out of his lower lip and tears and snot run down the rest of his face. He’s probably red in the face with his hair all over. It’s the sign of a job well done.

He gives himself a little break and lays his head down on Death’s lap. He nuzzles his cheek against the wet spot above his dick as he gasps.

“Enough of that.” Frank says. “You’re gonna fuck me now.”

Frank rises to his feet before Death once more. Both his face and chest are flushed and he feels hot all over. He must look debauched, he thinks as he removes his belt and tosses it aside.

He unzips his pants slowly, watching Death’s eyes follow the zipper downward in anticipation. Frank’s bulge is obvious as it peeks through the v opening the zipper makes. Death’s eyes widen as Frank licks his palm until it’s nice and wet and slips it into his white briefs. Frank grips himself tight and feels the drag of his hand against his dick. He lets his mouth hang open as he tugs and pleasures himself, ever the showman. At this point, Frank is feeling really good. He’s turned on more than he’s ever been before and he’s pretty positive that Death is as well. He’s gonna win this game of life and death and get a nice orgasm out of it, too.

Once he’s ready for more, he strips until he’s in nothing but his underwear. Frank gets on his hands and knees in front of Death, waving his perky ass in his face. He turns his head to wink at him.

“Remember, I like it when you touch.” Frank reminds him.

Death reaches out to grope the asscheeks being paraded in front of him. He squeezes them and jiggles them around while Frank rifles through his pockets in search of the lube and condom. He figures Death probably can't give him an STD, but not knowing the effects of having a reaper’s cum lingering in his ass, it’s a chance he doesn’t want to take. He uncaps the lube and spreads it on his fingers, warming it as he enjoys the feeling of Death massaging his ass.

“Can I pull them down?” Death asks, and it’s the first time he’s spoken since Frank started. His voice sounds more high pitched and desperate.

“Please.” Frank responds.

He feels the air hit his exposed hole once the briefs are down around his knees. Death pulls his asscheeks apart to get a better look at it.

Frank had already done all the necessary preparations for the hookup he had planned, so he’s sure his hole is looking bright and perky for the occasion. Death’s thumb brushes over his opening and Frank shudders. He brings his lubed finger to his ass to stretch himself a little more. If his dick is as big as it felt earlier, he’ll need it.

Frank circles his hole before pushing in. He teases himself, making sure it’s wet and glistening in the light. Death just holds his ass open and stares. Then, Frank dives in with two fingers at once. It feels so good, getting some stimulation. Frank wasn’t lying earlier when he had said he was a quality fuck. His ass is extra sensitive which makes him a really good bottom. He can never get enough when it comes to ass play and he makes sure to let Death know that with his sighs and moans. 

After a while, he adds more lube and fits in a third finger. It’s just the stretch he needs. He feels his cock leaking onto the rug he thought about sleeping on earlier. He wonders for a minute whether this is a real place or a conjured simulation made for him. He hopes for the first, so that the precum he’s leaking onto the regal design on the rug below is stained there for eternity.

He cries out when he finds his prostate and forces his hips back on his fingers. He fucks his own hand, scissoring his fingers out when he needs a little more stretch. When he feels like he can’t take it anymore, he pulls them out, wiping the excess lube on the carpet.

“I’ll let you stare all day long if you want, but you better take your cock out soon if you want it inside me.” Frank puffs out, breathless.

Death reacts rather quickly. He rucks up his cloak, letting his cock spring free. Thankfully, it looks human-like as well. Frank doesn’t know his way around supernatural dick and isn’t sure what he would do if there was anything but a penis under there. Well, he has some fantasies, but those are stories for another time. He’s glad that Death at least left his cloak on. He doesn’t want to completely forget that he’s about to get dicked down by an immortal creature that has his life in his hands.

Frank rolls the condom on, lubes him up, and straddles Death on his throne once more. He holds himself up and looks Death in his eyes, now only a thin band of hazel around a circle of black. Frank thinks it might be the light but he can almost swear there’s smoke billowing behind his pupils.

He slots his mouth against Death’s. This time there’s no hesitance, only hunger. Death practically attempts to devour Frank, sucking at his tongue and biting his lip. Frank is glad to have inspired that in him.

Frank reaches underneath them and gets a hold of Death’s dick. He jacks it a few times to make sure it’s as stiff as can be, then aligns it with his hole. It’s thick and hard against him and he has to grit his teeth a bit as the head pops through his ring. Him and Death pant into each others mouths as Frank sinks lower and lower, the burn barely on the good side of pleasurable.

His muscles contract and flutter around Death’s thick cock as his ass relaxes to take him in. When he’s fully seated inside of him, Frank breathes a sigh of relief. He’s here. He’s at the home stretch. Now all he’s gotta do is ride his way to victory.

And ride he does. He starts out slowly, barely lifting his hips up before bringing them down again. He rolls his hips, feeling the drag of Death dick in his hole. Death is running his hands up and down Frank’s sides feeling the muscles of his lithe body stretch and retract as he rides him.

Frank gets impatient and stops teasing them both. He kneels himself up until only the tip is inside and slams himself down. This earns twin moans from them both. 

He bounces up and down quickly, forcing Death’s dick deeper and deeper each time. It’s so good, feeling so stretched and used. But, it’s not enough.

“Hold me up.” He breathes out, moving Death’s hands to his lower back.

Frank leans back and continues to fuck himself on the cock throbbing inside of him. The change of angle is exactly what he needed. The drag is sweeter at this angle. The tip of his dick prods lightly at his prostate when he grinds down.

“Yes, there.” Frank begs, riding him like there’s no tomorrow.

He’s leaning back so far that he’d fall off the chair if Death let go. But the pressure on his sweet spot is so worth it and has him whimpering as he holds on. It isn’t until the muscles in his abs burn from the strain that he sits up and moves to change position.

He gets a peek at Death’s face as he turns. There’s sweat dripping down his pink cheeks and his face is twisted up in effort to hold back just how much he's feeling. A painful whine is released from his throat as Frank slips off his cock.

Not wasting a second, Frank turns and seats himself on Death once more, his back to Death’s chest. He somehow takes Death deeper, feels him more than before. They’re both losing patience at this point and Death grabs Frank by the hips, pulling him down hard to meet in the middle.

“Fuck.” Frank gasps at the pleasure. It’s racing through him, pushing him past the burn in his thighs and closer to his release. 

Death snakes one of his hands up to knot his hands in Frank’s hair and pull his head back far enough that it’s leaning against his shoulder. He lets out a pretty pathetic whine at that, his pain kink showing through. God, he’s such a whore, getting fucked up at Death manhandling him.

He’s no longer in a position to fully shove his hips down, but that’s okay, because Death is fucking into him with just enough force and at just the right angle to have Frank keening. Death kisses and nibbles on his shoulder and the back of his neck and Frank’s done for. He’s gone and wound up so tight, that he’s sure that if he didn’t get his hand on his dick right then, he’d explode.

Death is also feeling his climax approaching, so he breathes in Frank’s ear, “Gonna come.”

It’s all Frank needs to hear. He cries out, coming all over his hand and chest while Death continues attacking his prostate. He falls limp against Death behind him, but Death isn’t quite done. 

He continues to fuck him into overstimulation, leaving him to sob and writhe while Death pounds his cock into his sensitive ass.

Death bites at his neck as he comes. Frank can feel him throb and spurt for what feels like forever. He’s boneless to do anything, still riding the high of a good fuck.

They lie against each other for a few minutes, their sweat and breathing mingling in the chamber. Frank could swear it’s hotter than when he entered, but he supposes that's from the sex and lack of terror of eternal death hanging over him.

Frank turns to see Death’s exhausted, blissed out face. His softened dick is still inside him, but he’s not ready to get off of it yet. He wants to revel in it for a few more moments. It feels like victory.

He grabs Death’s jaw and brings it closer so that he can lazily kiss him. Frank’s a post-sex cuddler and he can’t exactly offer to make them coffee and spoon him and throw the sheets on top of them both, so he settles for their lips softly moving against each other’s, all urgency lost.

“So, Death.” Frank drawls out, not knowing what to say.

“Gerard.” Death corrects. “That’s my name. Or, it was back when I was human.”

“Gerard.” Frank tries out. It fits, he decides. It fits him more than the cloak and scythe. He seems like a Gerard. “Nice to, um, meet you.” 

Frank giggles. It’s an awkward time all around to have an introduction, but he finds it sweet that he’d even bother letting him in on the secret.

“Nice to meet you, too, I guess.” Gerard smiles and Frank notices that he has little teeth. It’s endearing, the little quirks he notices about him. They’re seated on a throne of skulls in some postmortem waiting room, but now, Gerard feels incredibly human. 

Frank stands up so that Gerard can finally have his dick back and they both wince as it slides out. Gerard stands up, too. He faces Frank and cups his jaw for another brief kiss.

“Thank you.” Gerard says, brushing some of Frank’s hair back. “And, a deal’s a deal. So, I guess it’s time to bring you back.”

It hits Frank all at once. In chasing his orgasm, he’d almost forgotten. He _won_. He got his life back. He fucked his way out of death. Euphoria fills his mind and his body. He managed to beat the one thing everyone fears. And in quite spectacular fashion, he would add.

Gerard raises his hand, snaps his fingers, and when he blinks, they’re back at that construction pit in New Jersey. Their clothes are magically back on, but Gerard’s hood is still down. His face almost glows in the moonlight. Frank’s body is still lying in the rocks below, exactly where he’d left it.

“Now, I still don’t know how you’re going to explain that. But, hey, call it a miracle or whatever. Humans still believe in those, right?” Gerard says to him fondly.

Frank nods. “So, I guess this is goodbye?” He raises his eyebrows.

Gerard considers the question. “Until next time.” He offers, _hopefully not too soon,_ is left unsaid but understood between them.

He leans in and leaves a short, sweet kiss on Frank’s cheek. When Frank opens his eyes, Gerard is gone. He’s in the construction pit and he aches like a motherfucker. He feels where various bones and body parts should be broken, but miraculously are not. Instead, they’re just leaving him in an immense amount of pain.

“Son of a bitch.” He whines, pulling himself together and peeling himself up and out of the pit.

There are a few people passing by as he manages to climb out, but they show no pity or concern. Instead they just look at him like, “what kind of dumbass manages to fall in a roped off ditch?”

Well, this dumbass, obviously. If they knew what Frank went through to get back here, they’d think a little differently. Thinking of that, he feels the soreness still in his ass as he walks off. It’s the kind that comes only after a good dicking. It leaves a smile on his face during his entire walk home.

His phone is completely trashed, but that’s fine, because he has no plans of heading to that dick appointment any longer. No, he's certainly fucked out for a while. The next week or so, at least. He's planning on riding this high he's feeling for as long as he can. At least, after he has a beer and a long nap, that is.

When Frank wakes the next day, he finds an unusual mark on himself when he looks in the mirror. Right where Gerard had bit him as he came, is a scar in the shape of a scythe. _Sentimental loser_ , Frank thinks, remembering his wild encounter with Death. Frank would wear it like a trophy until he sees him next.

**Author's Note:**

> i heard the joke "couldn't ride a cock to save your life" and thought but what if u had to tho


End file.
